FF, v. 1: Fantastic Faux

Collects: FF v. 2 #4-8 (2013)

Released: July 2013 (Marvel)

Format: 112 pages / color / $15.99 / ISBN: 9780785166634

What is this?: Four heroes with ties to the Fantastic Four fill in as guardians for the Future Foundation kids while the famous quartet is away.

The culprits: Writer Matt Fraction and artist Mike Allred (with help from Joe Quinones)

A book written by Matt Fraction and drawn by Mike Allred should be fun. I mean, I’m not the only one making that assumption, right? Fraction’s ideas and Allred’s expressive and cartoony art should combine into something that should put a smile on my face. And for the most part, that’s true of FF, v. 1: Fantastic Faux, but there’s darkness lurking in the background that I wasn’t prepared for.

On the surface, FF is a comedy book. The Fantastic Four has left Earth to go exploring, and they have left a team of second-string heroes (She-Hulk, Medusa, Ant Man II, and Ms. Thing) to look over the wacky cast of kids that the Fantastic Four’s Future Foundation is educating. I mean, the student body includes Moloids, fish people, and Artie and Leech. How could that not lead to craziness?

Fraction uses his cast to great effect, and #4 — the first issue in this collection — is an almost perfect issue. She-Hulk has dinner with her ex-boyfriend, Wyatt Wingfoot, while the Moloids who have a crush on her enlist the help of fellow student Bentley-23 to ruin their date. Bentley’s plots, however, have the opposite effect, and the night out turns into an enchanted evening for the couple. The issue is funny, heartfelt, and touching, accented by Allred’s simple yet effective art. I don’t usually associate “heartfelt” or “touching” with Fraction, but he pulls it off here.

Fraction maintains the humor throughout, letting all the characters get into the absurdity of multi-purposed HERBIES, an erudite Dragon Man teaching, Darla using “Thing rings” to turn into Ms. Thing, and postman Willie Lumpkin teaching the kids about the birds and bees. As “absurdity” is a specialty of Allred’s, his art is outstanding, of course. Whatever Fraction gives him to draw, Allred doesn’t flinch at, whether it’s Ms. Thing in weird headgear or the FF kids attacking Bentley and Medusa’s son with Home Alone traps. Allred also gets to draw fish creatures, Inhumans, and monsters from the deep, and he excels at all of them. He doesn’t draw the entire volume, but Joe Quinones does a great job filling in on #6, drawing in a very Allred style.

Fraction is obviously having fun with the title, even beyond the whimsical elements of the story and cast. The issue titles are ludicrous — “That Was the Worst Field Trip Ever!” and “Spooky Kids or, Merrily into the Eight Arms of Durga the Invincible We All Go” — or inexplicable (there is no Durga in #5, and I can’t figure out why #6 is titled “Save the Tiger,” as it has no relationship to either real tigers or the ‘70s Jack Lemmon movie). Fraction shows a predilection for continuity that I also didn’t know he had; he resurrects the Thing suit that Ben Grimm used when he lost his powers in the ‘70s, the Thing rings from the 1979 Thing animated series, and a variety of headgear from the series.

But throughout Fantastic Faux, Fraction is weaving some dark threads among the Moloids discovering gender and HERBIEs dressed up as Dr. Doom. Mind control is a standard superhero plot device, but there’s something more sinister about an old abuser returning to a former victim, as happens in this volume. Scott still has trouble dealing with the death of his daughter, Cassie, and being in charge of a whole school of children only exacerbates a dangerous situation for him. Dr. Doom is more vicious, eschewing grand plans and going for the gut to get what he wants. John Storm, returned from the future, is suffering from PTSD and has lost an eye. The grimmer elements sit uneasily next to the comedic bits … or maybe Fraction’s more serious plot developments should make me feel uneasy; violence, death, and sinister plots shouldn’t be comfortable, perhaps, despite what a half-century of Marvel Comics have taught us. I can’t be sure.

Allred is one of my favorite artists, and I hate to complain. But … at some points in the story, neither the art nor words explain what is going on. Fraction has never been a writer who overexplained matters, and that’s certainly true in Fantastic Faux. Some of the information either isn’t important or can be gleaned from the text, like why the Fantastic Four started teaching these kids in the first place or what exactly Bentley-23 does to make Blastaar disappear. Some information, like who Darla Deering is, could have been communicated to the reader with a better introductory page, and that’s not Fraction’s fault. And being behind in Marvel continuity, I was just mystified by things like Black Bolt’s return from the dead and the Inhumans’ return from space.⁹⁴ That being said, the first volume of a series should explain things more fully, not leave readers wondering if they missed a previous volume.⁹⁵ A footnote or two would go a long way, for Odin’s sake.

And it’s not like a general audience is going to recognize this cast. She-Hulk, probably; Medusa, likely. But Scott Lang, the second Ant-Man, maaayyyyybe, although I’m not sure the words “Ant-Man” was ever used in the book, and he never gets near an ant. But no one knows who Darla Deering is, and the Thing costume she wears is an obscure bit of continuity. Among the students, some people will remember Leech and Artie, but that’s it. Aiming a book at established Marvel audiences limits your readership.

Some would say Fraction respects his audience’s intelligence, but there’s a limit to how much I need to be respected. Fraction’s unanswered questions make it hard to gauge what he intends in other parts of the book. The villainy of Fraction’s Doom does not seem to match previous depictions of the despot; in this book, his villainy is ignoble, resorting to stratagems a man of honor (as Doom frequently claims to be) would never use. But I don’t know whether Fraction intends this to be a different aspect of Doom’s character, an evolution for the Fantastic Four’s old foe, or whether this is a clue that Doom isn’t Doom.

Despite feeling like I entered the story in the middle, I enjoyed Fantastic Faux. Sometimes I had to fight to enjoy it, but the fight was worth it. Given how many loose ends the story had, though, I’m concerned about continuing with FF, since Fraction has announced he’s leaving with #11. Will the stories pay off? Will FF retain its sense of lunacy? Neither question affects Fantastic Faux’s grade, but it does affect whether I would recommend anyone start reading the series.

Rating: (4 of 5)

Hawkeye, v. 1: My Life as a Weapon

Collects: Hawkeye #1-5 and Young Avengers Presents #6 (2008, 2012-3)

Released: March 2013 (Marvel)

Format: 136 pages / color / $16.99 / ISBN: 9780785165620

What is this?: Clint Barton (Hawkeye) and Kate Bishop (Hawkeye) team up to fight crime.

The culprits: Writer Matt Fraction and artists David Aja, Javier Pulido, and Alan Davis

Sometimes you want a break from big, event-driven comics. Something fun, lighthearted, with a lot of action. Hawkeye, v. 1: My Life as a Weapon fits that bill.

In Hawkeye, once and future Hawkeye Clint Barton enlists Kate Bishop, a teenage archer who also goes by Hawkeye, to fight crime. Clint is an amiable, normal guy, except for his facility with arrows: no super-strength, no super-intelligence, no powers, getting into scrapes partially by accident and partially through investigation. Clint’s lack of superpowers and seat-of-the-pants, haphazard superheroic style makes him more human and likeable than many superheroes.

Writer Matt Fraction‘s Clint has a great many similarities to the Iron Fist Fraction wrote in the The Immortal Iron Fist. Both are normal humans who have succeeded by extreme dedication to a martial art; both are rich; both are driven by a goofy dedication to morality but not the law; both lead with their chins rather than putting a great deal of thought into planning. Common enough characteristics in comics, I suppose, but somewhat worryingly, the characters have a similar internal voice as well: self-deprecating and humorous, as if to say superheroics aren’t as serious as others make it out to be.

Despite the frequent violence, Fraction maintains a lighthearted tone throughout. Clint’s mockery his own lack of planning and mistakes is a regular feature of his narration. Kate, of course, mocks the older Hawkeye. Rather than provide translation of non-English or garbled dialogue, Fraction fills the speech bubble with Clint’s guesses as to what the language is or what he hears instead of words. Instead of blacking out obscenities or using typographical chicken tracks instead, Fraction substitutes descriptive phrases such as “derogatory patriarchal epithet” and “slang for male genitalia.”

Fraction is not a writer who helps the reader decipher the plot. He’s more concerned with hooking readers with action and intrigue than making the story read smoothly. Present and past are frequently intercut, and Fraction begins the first three issues in media res. (Issues #4 and 5 are told linearly, though, and the result is much more comprehensible.) Fraction does not bother to explain the status quo: why Clint has a boatload of money, why Kate is no longer with the Young Avengers or romantically with former teammate Eli Bradley, whether the injuries Clint suffers at the beginning of #1 are a reference to another story. As to the latter, probably not, but that makes it confusing; why does Fraction bother to inflict such injuries without connecting them or Clint’s recovery to anything else? Footnotes, which might have answered some of these questions, are nonexistent.

Perhaps Fraction will explain these danglers later. If so, they are only a few of the many ideas Fraction teases as being important. Hobo code, an acolyte of Clint’s former teacher, and a mysterious redhead are among the plot points Fraction picks up and puts down again almost as quickly. Admittedly, the redhead is in an entire issue, but she’s enigmatic, around long enough as a character only for a quick hookup — random sex that portrays Clint as dangerous? unpredictable? sexually desirable? And then there’s the weird, squicky sexual tension between Kate and Clint that I hope Fraction drops immediately and never acknowledges again.

David Aja’s art on the first three issues is one of the book’s big draws. Whereas Fraction’s writing sometimes left me scratching my head, Aja’s art is almost always clear. (Sometimes too clear: the book makes a big deal of Avengers not killing, but that’s hard to reconcile with the injuries Kate’s arrows inflict and the havoc Clint’s shots cause.) Aja’s art isn’t the sharp, larger-than-life style that gets a great deal of attention, but it’s great for telling the story and setting the tone. My favorite trick was a series of small headshots of Kate, each with one letter of dialogue beneath it, framing panels of Clint shooting three arrows at once; it shows how quickly Clint can take a difficult — improbable — shot. On a sillier note, I laughed at the drawing of Hawkeye’s face with his traditional headgear (not worn in My Life) Aja uses to conceal Clint’s naked crotch instead of a black dot or blur during a fight scene.

Javier Pulido’s art on #4 and 5 isn’t as evocative or distinctive as Aja’s, but it’s still very good. Pulido’s work is frequently reminiscent of Jack Kirby’s, but it also contains elements Darwyn Cooke’s art as well. Pulido is not as clear as Aja, but he does action scenes well, and his style is well suited for the crime story at the heart of his two issues. Pulido doesn’t make much of the exotic Madripoor setting, but that’s partially because Fraction sets most of the issues indoor.

Young Avengers Presents #6, which is tonally and visually discordant with the rest of the book, is included as the last issue in the collection. The issue is drawn by Alan Davis, and his work looks nothing like Aja’s or Pulido’s: his work is slick, fluid, with characters’ expressions and bodies occasionally exaggerated. Fraction writes the story, but the characters’ roles are completely different: Clint is “dressing like a ninja,” and Kate is trying to determine what she wants her relationship with Eli Bradley to be. The plot doesn’t connect to the rest of the book in any way except to establish the two Hawkeyes know each other. In fact, it raises questions about Kate and Patriot’s relationship and her team affiliation the book does not answer. Perhaps it’s for the best; the final issue in the collection would have been a rotten place to establish the status quo, anyway.

Despite the book’s problems — and there are problems, however much this book has been lavished with praise — it’s inherent likeability makes it worth reading. I’m willing to give Hawkeye a second look, and I’ll be reading Little Hits when it comes out.

Rating: (3.5 of 5)

Punisher War Journal, v. 1: Civil War

Collects: Punisher War Journal v. 2 #1-4 (2007)

Released: November 2007 (Marvel)

Format: 144 pages / color / $14.99 / ISBN: 9780785123156

What is this?: During Civil War, a battle between heroes in the Marvel Universe, the Punisher declares war on supervillains.

The culprits: Writer Matt Fraction, pencillers Ariel Olivetti (#1-3) and Mike Deodato (#4)

Writer Matt Fraction is a bit of conundrum for me. While he is the darling of certain corners of the Internet, I didn’t care for the first volume of his Casanova. Punisher War Journal, v. 1: Civil War doesn’t answer the question of where all the unabashed adoration is coming from either.

I can see part of it. There are great moments and great lines. Stuart Clarke, a robotocist and Iron Man villain, has a flock of little robot Iron Men whom he alternately terrorizes and orders to do his bidding. A groggy Spider-Man, after he has been saved from the Jester and Jack o’ Lantern (really?) by the Punisher, tells his savior he can’t pay him, and when the Punisher says Spider-Man doesn’t have to pay, Spider-Man says, “Action is my reward too.” And pretty much the entirety of issue #4 — with the exception of the presence of the Prowler and Puma (really?) — is hilarious.

But there are plenty of moments that strike me as wrong. (At times, Fraction’s entire Marvel Universe seems wrong, but I’m blaming that on Civil War.) The Bugle reluctantly endorsing the Punisher’s killings, for example, seems something the paper of J. Jonah Jameson would never do. The Punisher himself seems off as well; he mixes his steely, stoic demeanor with jokes that go flat, and he has his moments of comic fallibility. I don’t want the Punisher to be too personable and human; he never really has been either of those things. He’s a remorseless killer, and the closest he comes to jokes is the black humor about the villains’ deaths.

I didn’t care much for Civil War, the massive crossover that had Marvel’s superheroes fighting one another over civil rights, in either concept or what I saw of the execution. This doesn’t change my opinion on the matter, but it does give the Punisher a reason to enter superhero politics, which are usually settled at the end of a (metaphorical) gun. It also gives Fraction a chance to re-enact the Scourge of the Underworld storyline, which started in 1985 and climaxed in Captain America #318-20. In fact, #4 is a direct homage to Captain America #319, where the vigilante the Scourge kills a bar full of supervillains, most of whom are less than super. (The Punisher, admittedly, only destroys the bar and poisons its occupants; we don’t know the fates of his targets.)

I’m not exactly sure I see the point of killing third-rate villains. The original Scourge storyline was supposed to thin out the ranks of the incompetent, but their numbers exploded in the ‘90s, and even some killed in the massacre at the Bar with No Name have returned. I don’t even think killing these long-time punching bags will have much emotional impact. That being said, I don’t care for the Punisher killing classic Silver Age villains, even if they’re goofy. It just makes me dislike Fraction and the Punisher, because idiots like the Jester and Stilt-Man are weak, easy targets. Go after those disposable ‘90s villains, especially ones that clogged the Spider-Man books at the time. Man, those were awful.

Most of the art is provided by Ariel Olivetti, but his art leaves me cold. It appears to be painted, but it makes his characters look like motionless cutouts on a dark background. The colors are a bit washed out as well. Neither particularly fits for the title; the Punisher is a figure of action, in a world of blacks, whites, and arterial reds. Also, although I have nothing to say about Fraction making SHIELD agent G.W. Bridge a Muslim, I don’t like Olivetti’s design of Bridge, making him a paunchy old man — albeit a giant old man.

On the other hand, I love Mike Deodato’s gorgeous work on #4. It is a series of crowd scenes, but that’s all right; I can generally identify who’s who without gratuitous exposition, and everyone looks good. Especially Princess Python, one of my favorite Steve Ditko creations. I love Ditko’s work, but the Princess has never looked as good as she does here.

The price is a bit steep, considering the content. $15 for only 4 issues, even if one is supersized, is too much, and adding the black and white edition of #1 (which was actually released before the regular #1) doesn’t help much.

I really was on the fence about this one, but at that price, I can’t recommend Punisher War Journal, v. 1.

Rating: (1.5 of 5)

Casanova, v. 1: Luxuria

Collects: Casanova #1-7 (2006-7)

Released: February 2008 (Image Comics)

Format: 144 pages / monochrome / $12.99 / ISBN: 9781582408972

Casanova, v. 1: Luxuria is a book that is simultaneously all thriller and all filler. Casanova is filled with enough high concept to make a movie studio exec’s head explode at 20 paces. Which sounds like a complement, especially if you’ve seen Norbit, but it’s not.

Writer Matt Fraction puts explosions, spy organizations, and supervillains above likable characters. This is one of those books that doesn’t convince me to like the protagonist, Casanova Quinn, who starts out as a high-tech king of the cat burglars and is then drawn into a parallel reality. He has flexible morals, and while he tries to stop short of killing, 1) that’s not always possible, and 2) I have the feeling he’d do anything else if Fraction thought it was cool.

Gabriel Ba’s long and stylized art gives Casanova the distinct look the book needs. Ba’s Quinn looks like no one else. Impressively, despite a limited palette and a style that skimps on details for the big effects and atmosphere, all the characters remain distinct. I’m not convinced pale green, black, and white is the best color scheme for this book, but it does give the art an extra unmistakable look. Ba’s art and the color is as much a part of Casanova as Fraction’s writing, and I don’t say that sort of thing about art very often.

In many ways, Casanova is the mirror image of Nextwave: gloriously high concept, over the top, and rapid paced. But I like the cast of Nextwave; writer Warren Ellis makes me laugh. Fraction’s writing makes me think he’s in too much of a hurry to get to his next “cool” idea. Don’t get me wrong — there are cool ideas, and Fraction has obvious enthusiasm for all of them. But I don’t care enough about them to continue following this series.

Rating: (2 of 5)